


(Last) Man's Best Friend

by transpapyrus



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Rimmer and Kryten make appearances but this is not about them, Unfortunate accidents with catnip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transpapyrus/pseuds/transpapyrus
Summary: Lister and Cat have always had a... particular relationship, but one thing's for sure: they're best friends whether they want to be or not.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	(Last) Man's Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Hayden I'm sorry it took so long || Heavily inspired by everyone in the Bean Dwarf server, thank you for all your ideas and encouragement || I don't know how to write consistent lengths and it shows || There is no consistent timeline but if you can guess what episode/general era each section takes place in then congrats I guess || Is Cat in character? Hell if I know || Here please just take this I've been trying to write it for almost two months god bless ||

Lister was pretty sure that the cat didn’t like him.

Well, that’s not  _ quite _ true. It was more like Cat didn’t like  _ anybody _ . Anybody but himself, of course. But he didn’t really have a lot of options. He could spend time alone, which was just fine, but he wouldn’t have anyone to admire his clothes. Or he could spend time with Rimmer, which...

Ha. No he couldn’t.

Which left only one option — Lister.

Hanging out with  _ Lister _ was less than optimal too, something he told him every single day when he inevitably came strutting into the bunkroom desperate for attention.

Lister, being the last human alive, was lonely. How could he not be? Even with a neurotic hologramatic bunkmate to drive him up the wall, he still felt completely alone in the universe because… well, he was.

But here’s what they won’t tell you:

Cat, for all his attempts at denial, was having a hard time coping with being the only one of his species still around. His life hadn’t exactly been easy, and he fought very hard to achieve the level of self-assurance he now possessed. And yes, cats are remarkably good at entertaining themselves, something that Cat had spent years doing on his own long before Lister emerged from stasis. But after so many years alone, he was getting tired of it. And he often wondered where the others were, if they were out there somewhere, if they remembered him, if they thought about him as much as he thought about them.

Because that’s the thing. Cat  _ did _ think about them. He thought about them, hoping they would come back and take him with them. Hoping that one day they would change their minds, decide that he was cool after all. And honestly, he wasn’t even sure at what point he gave up. It happened slowly, so he barely noticed his faith in his people slipping away until it was gone.

And when Lister  _ was _ released from stasis, and Cat was safe to leave the vents that lead to the cargo hold, he wondered, for the briefest time, if maybe this was a sign. Cloister had returned. But the rest of the cat people were gone — so now what?

Then over time, he stopped believing in Cloister too. It didn’t come as much of a surprise. How could he, when he looked like… that. Dave Lister was no god. And he never claimed nor pretended to be. Even hopes of a Promised Land, Fiji or Fuchal, faded quickly. Disillusioned and aimless, Cat threw himself into the only thing he really knew, the only thing he was  _ confident _ in: himself.

And that was easier, for what it was worth. When you care for nothing and no one, coping with the fact that you’re utterly alone in the universe gets easier.

Or maybe you just get better at hiding your pain.

Lister never had any problem expressing how miserable he was, especially in the early days. Cat often mocked him for it, as if he could not possibly comprehend what it was like to be lonely. Humans were so  _ needy _ . 

(As if Cat wasn’t.)

So in Lister’s defense, Cat would never admit to liking him. Honestly, it was sort of becoming a trend.  _ Why _ was he stuck with two people who seemed to not be able to stand him?

Probably because, despite their airs of nonchalance, they needed each other.

So that’s why, without fail, you could always find Cat and Lister together. 

The following, dear reader, is only a small sample, a collection of events that occured over the many years they spent together. You may find that a pattern emerges — many, many times that Dave Lister went out of his way to do things for Cat. Was it out of obligation? Did he feel some sort of responsibility to take care of him? Or was he simply being a good friend? It was rare that Cat ever reciprocated those gestures of friendship. However, you may find that there were instances in which Cat thought about someone other than himself. They were few and far between, and sometimes quite unintentional. 

But then again, Lister never expected anything from anyone.

**1**

“How much longer are we gonna be doing this?” Cat came into the Starbug cockpit, still wearing his pajamas, and draped himself over the seat beside Lister. 

“Until we find them.” Lister frowned, staring out of the dashboard window, as if the empty sky might suddenly shift before their eyes. “It’s only been a day.”

Cat huffed in annoyance and pulled out a nail file from his pocket, running it over a claw. “That’s a day too long,” he said. “If I had known, I would’ve packed a bigger mirror.”

Lister just rolled his eyes. “Go get dressed, alright?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Lister probably should’ve expected that getting dressed would take Cat longer than the two minutes it would take him to throw on dirty underwear, a pair of shorts, and an inside-out t-shirt. Two years together — you’d think he would’ve learned by now. About half an hour later, Cat poked his head back into the cockpit. His clothes were immaculate as always, pressed and form-fitting. “Hey bud, I need your help.”

Lister raised his eyebrows. “ _ My _ help?” He shrugged, and stood up, flipping the autopilot switch on the navicomp. “Yeah, alright.” He followed Cat into the belly of the ship over to the table, where Cat sat himself down in a chair and pulled out his little handheld mirror. He rested his elbows on the table and preened at his reflection, licking his fingertip and swiping it over his brows. “What’re you doing?”

“What  _ you’re _ doing,” Cat corrected, “is braiding my hair.”

Lister stared at him. “I’m what?”

“I don’t have all my stuff,” he explained impatiently. “And I can’t reach, or else I’d do it myself. You’re not special, don’t get it twisted. I just need your hands.”

Lister grinned where Cat couldn’t see. “Alright, fine. You can trust me.”

A scoff. “No I can’t. But I’m out of options. Just…” he turned over his shoulder to look at Lister’s own hair disdainfully. “Don’t mess it up.” He grabbed Lister’s wrist and turned his palm over. “And go wash your hands.”

Grumbling, Lister shuffled to the small washroom, scrubbed his hands until he’d removed at least the top layer of grime, then came back, drying them on his pants. “I do actually know how to do this, y’know,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I used to have proper braids when I was younger.” Cat gave him a skeptical look and carefully removed his sleep cap. “Alright. How do you want it?”

Combing his fingers through the long strands to shake it loose, Cat tapped the back of his head. “French plait,” he said. “All the way down. Keep it tight. I can’t afford to have little wispies going everywhere when we hit some turbulence.”

“Fine.” Lister cracked his knuckles loudly in Cat’s ear, which earned him a sharp look, then gathered the hair gently and divided it up. 

“Don’t pull too hard!”

“I haven’t even started.” He slowly began to fold the pleats.

“Not too loose!”

“For smeg’s sake.” Lister let go and leaned over Cat’s shoulder. “Just shut up and let me do it, or you’re on your own.” Cat rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. Shaking his head, Lister began again. This time, Cat actually stayed quiet. Lister worked with uncharacteristic precision and care, keeping the braid even and flat. It got tighter and smaller as he made his way down Cat’s back, and at one point, Lister could feel him... vibrating? 

“Hey uh—” There was a strange, humming sound. “Are you… wait, man, are you  _ purring?” _

The humming stopped. “What? No!”

“You were!” Lister grinned, the delight in his voice obvious. “I didn’t know you purred.”

Cat scowled. “I’m a cat,” he said. “Of course I purr. Now keep going, before you lose your place and have to start again.” Under his breath, he added, “and you’re killing my vibe.”

Covering his mouth briefly with one hand to muffle a laugh, Lister resumed. And not too long after, Cat’s purring started up again. When he finally finished, Cat passed him a tiny rubber band which he twisted onto the end, then stepped back to admire his work. Cat wiggled impatiently in his seat. “Are you done? Did you ruin it? How bad does it look?”

Lister considered for a moment, then took the ribbon from his own hair and tied it in a neat bow at the end of Cat’s. “There,” he said, grinning. “See for yourself.” Cat reached behind his head, patting his hair hesitantly. He made a face, which wasn’t… displeased, per se. Actually, quite the opposite, as if he was surprisingly pleased but didn’t want to admit that Lister hadn’t entirely cocked it up. He grabbed the end of the braid to look at it closer, holding up the small mirror to try and see the back. Finally, he flicked it back over his shoulder and stood up. 

“Alright, let’s find Goalpost Head and Freak Face so we can go home,” he said, making his way back to the cockpit. 

“What, no thank you or anything?” Lister asked.

Cat looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “For what?”

“For—” Lister cut himself off. He honestly couldn’t tell if Cat was messing with him, had somehow already forgotten, or literally just didn’t care that Lister had done him a huge favor (he suspected it was the latter), and didn’t really feel like arguing. Cat raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to finish his sentence, and when he didn’t, just shrugged and kept walking, crooning  _ ‘I’m looking good!’  _ to himself in the mirror. Lister simply shook his head and followed. 

**2**

Kryten still hadn’t passed his pilot’s test.

This was currently Lister’s main source of irritation. After threatening to fail him five times over for various small mistakes, Rimmer drew the line at being sucked into a time hole with the mechanoid at the helm. It was actually understandable, for the most part, but Rimmer was being such a git about the whole ordeal that Lister had taken it upon himself to argue with him about it at every turn. Kryten would never advocate for himself to the self-proclaimed senior officer, and while Lister was determined to fix that too, he knew he needed to stick to one thing at a time. So for now, it was making sure every single waking hour was spent annoying Rimmer until he let up.

It had been three weeks, and still no success.

Lister, with nothing better to do, didn’t mind. But Cat was beginning to get impatient concerning the lack of attention he was being given. 

“Hellooooo,” he said, leaning over Lister’s shoulder, knocking on his skull with one hand and waving the other in front of his face. “Anyone in there?” 

Lister glanced up at him. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’m bored.”

He raised his eyebrows. Bored? The cat was bored? With basically a whole ship to himself and plenty of places to explore, things to get into, and food to eat, how could he possibly be bored?

(The answer, of course, was remarkably simple. And it was in many ways similar to the source of Lister’s boredom. Out in deep space, alone, you become very aware of your own insignificance and minuscule existence. Nothing you do with your time matters very much when this is what the rest of your life looks like.)

(Lister couldn’t very well solve such an existential problem for Cat, though. He could barely handle it himself.)

Instead of letting Cat know that actually, he understood him perfectly, and his boredom was completely valid, Lister said, “yeah, aren’t we all?” in that sarcastic tone that he usually reserved for when he was on his last nerve.

Hell, he hadn’t even realized how annoyed he was.

It was the boredom, wasn’t it? 

“So?” Cat put his hands on his hips, cocking his head and looking down at Lister expectantly. “What are we gonna do?”

Lister rolled his eyes and tossed the magazine he was flipping through aside. “What makes you think  _ I’m _ doing anything?” 

“Because. You’ve been sitting in the same position for two days straight and honestly it’s freaking me out.” 

Ugh. Cat had a point, didn't he? Lister groaned, and swung his feet down off the table. With an overly-dramatic huff of annoyance, he stood up, reached his hands high above his head. Linked at the wrist, he stretched to one side, then the other side, backward, and finally forward, each new direction resulting in cracking vertebrae ranging from satisfying pops to sickening crunches. When he finished, he stayed bent over, dreadlocks swinging and pooling on the floor. He looked at Cat upside down between his legs, and grinned, which quickly morphed into a grimace of pain as he realized he was quite stuck. 

“Ow,” he winced. “I don’t think I can move me back.” 

Cat tutted quietly and shook his head, walking away. “That sounds like a you problem, buddy.”

By the time Lister finally got himself unstuck from his contorted predicament, Cat had already made up his mind regarding what he and Lister were going to do. This message was relayed to Lister, not by Cat himself, but by Kryten, who was mid-mop when he left the sleeping quarters, limping slightly and pressing a hand to the small of his back. 

“Are you alright, sir?” Kryten asked worriedly as he observed Lister’s gait.

“Just fine,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Remind me to never move again.”

Kryten just looked at him for a moment, clearly still concerned, but deciding not to unpack that at the moment. Instead, he said, “Mr. Cat just came this way a few minutes ago. He said he would be waiting for you in the docking bay.” Lister looked up at Kryten with obvious surprise. “Are you two going out?”

Lister ran a hand over his face. “Apparently we are. Look,” he continued, picking up on what he accurately interpreted as disappointment radiating from the mechanoid. “I’ll take you out flying later this week, okay? I’ll get you to pass your pilot’s exam if it’s the last thing I do.”

Kryten’s eyes widened. “But sir!” he exclaimed. He sounded… scandalized. “You’re not qualified as an instructor  _ nor _ a proctor!”

Lister put his hands on Kryten’s shoulders, eyeing him seriously. “Neither is Rimmer. He couldn’t even fly a ship  _ before _ he was a hologram.”

Kryten nodded gravely. “Well, enjoy your day with Mr. Cat,” he said kindly. “I’ll just be mopping these corridors while you’re gone.”

Lister headed off down the hall with a wave and a little more spring in his step. No matter how much he hated his existence sometimes, and no matter what Cat had planned for them, none of that could be as bad as being a dead man who couldn’t touch anything or a mechanoid whose only purpose was to clean a city-sized mining ship.

Suddenly, life didn’t seem so terrible.

He found Cat in the docking bay, where he was perched on the hull of one of the Starbugs. “How the smeg did you get up there?” he called as he descended the scaffolding.

“I’m a cat,” Cat said, as if that explained everything. Alright. Fair answer.

“So you want to go flying?” Lister banged on the side of the bug twice with the back of his hand and with an awful creaking sound, the staircase slid out. Cat slid off and landed gracefully with a soft  _ thud _ , and followed him inside.

“I saw that there’s a moon with craters the size of a lake not too far from here,” Cat said. “I want to go fishing.”

Lister closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, breathed in, and counted to ten very slowly in his head. “Just because there’s lake-sized craters doesn’t mean there’s an actual lake. Or fish.”

“That’s the thing,” Cat said, stalking into the cockpit and sliding into the front right-hand seat. “I  _ know _ there is.” Without giving the other a chance to ask  _ how _ he knew, he continued, “a cat’s intuition is never wrong.”

Lister sat down beside him, wondering what would’ve been worse: this, or spending the day annoying Rimmer. 

(In lieu of coming up with a real answer, he decided that he would’ve simply preferred to help Kryten mop the decks to either of these options, and instantly came to the conclusion that his life truly was very sad indeed.)

So what the hell? Fishless fishing in a lakeless lake on a moon that may or may not even exist? Things couldn’t possibly get any worse from here.

Lister steered them out of the docking bay with only minor damage to the side of Starbug and the hatch door of Red Dwarf. Meanwhile, Cat was typing away at the navicomp, and Lister started to wonder if he would have better luck passing the astronavigation exam that Rimmer had failed time and time again. With the coordinates plugged in, Lister reached over to swivel the screen toward him. Cat pulled it back forcefully.

“Um, what are you doing?” Lister asked, clinging desperately to his last shreds of patience. 

“ _ Ummmm _ ,” Cat parrotted back. “Flying the ship?” Lister looked at him incredulously. “What? I’ve done it before.”

Lister knew that. He just wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. To be fair… this was  _ Cat _ they were talking about. If Kryten couldn’t even pass a simple pilot test, why should anyone trust Cat at the helm? “I know that,” he said, predictably. “I’m just not sure it’s a good idea. I mean... This is  _ you  _ we’re talking about. If Kryten can’t even pass his pilot’s test, why should I trust you?”

“Simple,” came Cat’s response, and he really had a knack for making utter nonsense sound simple. Which, maybe it was. “I’m a cat.”

Lister was pretty sure that was the opposite of a reason to trust him. He was also pretty sure it wasn’t worth arguing about. At least if they died here in a fiery crash, he’d be dying alongside someone he actually liked.

Shockingly, he didn’t die that day. Neither of them did, in fact. Cat was actually an impressively good pilot. Not quite the caliber Lister imagined the Jupiter Mining Corporation standard to be, but passable. And considering he’d literally never had a single flying lesson nor picked up a book on astronavigation (to his knowledge, anyway), he was doing remarkably well. If this were a test, he’d be passing with flying colors. Even Rimmer would be impressed.

“So if you didn’t need me to fly the ship…  _ why  _ did you want me to come with you?” Lister finally asked, once he was absolutely certain they were safe and he could let go of the armrests without worrying about being tossed into the dashboard. 

Cat reached down beside him and lifted a bright pink tackle box in one hand, and a fishing pole in the other. “Someone has to carry this stuff!”

“You didn’t even bring one for me?” His eyes widened. “Hands on the controls, man!”

Cat shrugged and set the box and rod down again. “I’ve got it handled.”

And he did. Somehow, not only did Cat manage to fly a smooth course, but he navigated to the intended coordinates, at which they  _ did _ find a moon, which  _ did _ have very large craters, and unless Lister’s eyes were betraying him, that certainly looked like water down below.

If there was a god, his name might not have been Cloister, but he was certainly looking after them both today.

“How’d you learn to fly, then?” Lister asked as Cat carefully deployed the grav-boosters and landed Starbug on the surface. “You just… taught yourself?”

Cat shrugged, unclipping his seatbelt and handing Lister the supplies. “What, like it’s hard?”

Lister was so completely dumbstruck by that answer that he forgot to be angry about being the caddie.

Here’s something about Cat that you should know:

He had a lot of hidden talents. As anyone who has ever met a domesticated housecat will know, felines can often seem brainless and idiotic, but the truth is, they’re really quite clever.

Cat, the  _ felis sapien _ , designated resident moron of red Dwarf, was no different. And he was far from stupid. Sure, he rarely had interest in  _ using _ his brain, because sleeping and eating and building the universe’s largest wardrobe were much more pressing issues. But how else could he have designed  _ and _ constructed hundreds if not thousands of different suits and outfits worthy of the world’s biggest fashion shows? How else could he have learned to sing and dance so brilliantly? And how else could he have taught himself to pilot a spacecraft?

The thing about being the last of your species to remain on the ship of your birth is that when you spend so much time alone, you have to do  _ something _ to pass the time. Cat explored. He explored  _ everything _ the cargo hold had to offer. And while his true love was the hideous clothes he found that he turned into works of art, he’d also found books. Guides. Instructions. To any and  _ everything _ . And he read them all. _ How to Sew. How to Cook. How to Pick Up Girls in Just Ten Easy Steps. 101 Chat-Up Lines That Will Charm Any Man. Astronavigation for Dummies. How to Fly a Spaceship. _

Most of his early years (indeed, everything leading up to Lister’s release from stasis) were spent learning skill after skill, practicing and perfecting. Only the ones that interested him, of course, of which there were few, and it took a while, because he had to fit them into his busy schedule of eating and sleeping. But some things just come naturally to a cat. Flying was one of those things. Sure, he’d spent quite a while studying up on the theoretical parts, but he’d never actually imagined he’d have an opportunity to do it for real. Getting the A-Okay from Holly that the ship was safe to explore in its entirety was about as close to finding a Promised Land as Cat ever actually expected. If nothing else, it meant there might be a ship that could take him there.

And of course, things didn’t quite go as planned. But that was okay. He still got to eat. Still got to sleep. And now here he was, flying a ship all on his own. 

Little victories.

And as they sat side by side on the bank, the only known felis sapien reeling in Lunar Salmon with the expensive fishing rod he'd knicked from the Officer's Club rental equipment storage, and the only known human being tipping back an open, half-empty can of lager he'd found on the floor under the table in Starbug, Lister too realized that for the first time in weeks, he didn't resent his last-human-alive situation. Sure, being the last of your species kind of sucked, but at least he wasn't alone. Cat tugged hard on the line, and a giant salmon came shooting out the water, flopped wildly in the air, and then smacked him right across the face. As he flailed around, yowling in protest, Lister just laughed and tossed his empty can to the side. 

Yeah.

Life was actually pretty good.

**3**

“Sirs! Good news!” Kryten trotted down the hallway, waving something in his hand. Cat and Lister, just returning from the AR suite, looked up at him expctantly. 

“What’s up, Krytes?”

“I’ve been experiemtning with some new plants in the botanical gardens,” the mechanoid explained, coming to a stop as they approached. “I found some seeds which had been preserved in stasis pods. I did some research, and I believe I have grown  _ nepeta cataria _ , or more commonly, catnip.”

Lister grinned, shooting a look at Cat, who just looked confused. “No way! Really?”

Cat looked at Kryten. “What is it?”

“Dude, you don’t know what catnip is?” Lister looked delighted. “Cats — normal housecats anyway — love that stuff. I remember taking some from the gardens to give to Frankie.”

Kryten nodded. “Yes sir,” he agreed. “It apparently has a similar effect as ‘getting high’ does to humans. I read that when consumed, it makes the feline species rather calm and mellow.” He smiled. “I thought I might make you some tea with it this evening, sir.”

“Let me see that.” Cat reached for the stem Kryten was holding.

“Of course, but I should warn you, when  _ smelling _ it—”

Cat held the leaves to his nose and inhaled long and deeply.

“...It has a tendency to make one rather… hyperactive.”

“Oh man, this stuff smells  _ amazing _ ,” Cat said, rubbing it up against his nose. Then slowly, he pulled it away and lowered his arm to his side. “Wait, what?”

And  _ that _ is the story of how, about five minutes later, Cat ended up zipping up and down the Red Dwarf corridors, ricochetting off the walls nearly at the speed of light. 

“Hol, do you know where he is?” Lister asked the computer once they’d lost track of him. 

“He’s all the way down on M-Deck,” came Holly’s response. 

Kryten looked at Lister guiltily. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t have time to warn him. Honestly, I had no idea it would affect him so much. I — clearly incorrectly — assumed that his evolved genes would make him less susceptible.”

Lister was, remarkably, still grinning. “Don’t worry about it, Kryten. He’ll be fine. It’ll wear off in a little while.”

“I hope so,” Kryten fretted. “My guess is that he’ll be very,  _ very _ tired when that time comes.”

“Perfect.”

Down on M-Deck, Cat was examining his reflection in the scuffed metal of the waste disposal equipment. He swatter his hand at it irritably. “Do I  _ really  _ look like that?” he muttered, rubbing at his cheek. It  _ appeared _ that he had a dirt stain there, but in reality, it was just a mark on the macchine. “Oh,” he said, sidestepping to the one beside it which was significantly cleaner. “That’s more like it.” He gave a yowl of approval and spun around.

“Hey man,” Lister said, stepping out of the lift. He was holding something behind his back, moving slowly and attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. “How you doing?”

“I’m great!” Cat chirped, hopping up on a pile of sealed crates. “I’m looking good, I’m feeling good, everything is good. Hey, you know how they sat cats always land on their feet? I’ve always wanted to test that out.” He started climbing up higher. 

“Oooookay, or not,” Lister said quickly. He really didn’t want to see the results of that little experiment. “Hey, c’mere for a minute.” Cat paused, and turned around, looking at him expectantly. “Just, come down here.”

Sighing, Cat stepped down to the floor, looking at Lister suspiciously. “What?”

A delighted look spread across Lister’s face, the kind of expression one gets moments before they do something absolutely terrible that without fail, all their friends will absolutely hate them for, while at the same time soaking in every chaotic moment of it. Behind his back, Lister clicked the button on the laser pointer he was holding, and aimed it at the wall to his right. He pointed “What’s that?”

Cat turned to look, saw it, glanced back at Lister, and then whipped his head around and threw his whole body at the wall. Immediately, Lister redirected the small red light, moving it around the room rapidly, and Cat followed, keeping pace with it surprisingly well. When he aimed it at the ceiling, Cat jumped. When he aimed it at the ground, Cat ‘hit the deck’ faster than you could say  _ the floor is a lifetime supply of fish. _ And when he clicked it off, it left Cat spinning in circles for a good 30 seconds before he finally figured out it had disappeared.

When he finally caught his breath, he gave Lister a look of irritation that only made him laugh harder. “What the hell was that about?”

“I dunno,” Lister said. “Hey, look over there!” And so it began again.

By the time the effects wore off, Kryten eventually found Lister and Cat sitting together in the drive room. Or rather, Cat was passed out at the console and Lister was drinking a beer milkshake with his feet propped up on the controls.

“...I thought that he might need something to help him relax, but it seems he had no trouble falling right asleep,” Kryten said with a slight shake of his head. “What  _ did _ you two get up to?”

“I was testing a theory,” Lister explained. “About cats and laser pointers.”

He had never seen Kryten look so disappointed in his life. 

“Hey, to be fair,” he continued, “it was a constructive way to burn off all that energy.”

“I find it remarkable how much he resembles his feline ancestors at times,” Kryten said, glancing over at the slumbering Cat whose nose twitched in his sleep. “There are moments where I almost forget that he isn’t human, but then something like this happens. It’s fascinating.”

“Yeah,” Lister agreed. “Makes me wonder what happened to all the cats back on Earth. Are they all like him now? Maybe if the human race really has died out, they’ve been replaced entirely by  _ felis sapiens _ .”

“It is possible, sir.” Kryten smiled slightly. “Will you two be staying here? Or do you want me to accompany you back to your quarters?”

Lister shook his head, glancing back over at Cat. “Nah. I’ll stay here, keep an eye on him. It’s the least I can do. He’ll probably sleep through the night, y’know?” Kryten nodded. “Oh! Maybe you could go get his sleep mask though? It’s in my quarters. He gets really upset when the light wakes him up.”

“Of course.” Once Kryten was gone, he glanced around, then withdrew a marker from his pocket and leaned over Cat’s sleeping form. 

_ Payback, for all the times he did it to me when I was passed out drunk. _

He tried to be mature, he really did. Last human alive and all that. But no sleeping man’s face was safe from the childish whims of Dave Lister weilding a pen. Would he regret it in the morning? Probably. But was it worth it? Without a doubt. 

**4**

Starbug was small. Objectively, not  _ that _ small, but compared to the sprawling vastness of Red Dwarf, the transport ship felt like a single apartment building at the center of a city. It was a change for all of them. For the most part, this came from the small crew being used to having their own spaces to go to when they needed alone time. But even though Starbug was equipped with a few living quarters, a central gathering area and the cockpit, it still seemed claustrophobic even for four individuals. 

The living quarters were especially cramped, but Lister and Rimmer insisted on continuing to stay together. Which was fine — or rather, would’ve been, had Cat not taken this opportunity to plant himself in Lister’s bunk.

That, in itself, was nothing new.

Lister was used to Cat napping in his bed when he was out and about during the day. There had been plenty of times back on Red Dwarf where Cat camped out on the top bunk while Lister sat at the table or even on Rimmer’s bunk, watching tv, or just hanging out doing their own things. 

What Lister  _ didn’t _ anticipate was for Cat to join him up there when he was actually turning in for the night.

For one thing, Cat slept so much during the day that Lister just assumed he spent all night having the run of the ship to do… whatever cats get up to when everyone else is asleep. 

“What’s up man?” he asked, tossing his magazine to the side. “Everything alright?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Cat stretched, papping the blanket with his hands and then laid down, limbs sprawled out, half draped over Lister. “Going to sleep.”

Lister stared at him. “Here?”

Cat rubbed his nose with a hand and closed his eyes. “Yep! Night!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on.” He sat up and prodded Cat with a toe from under the blanket. “There’s not room for us both here.”

Cat lifted his head and gave Lister a bewildered look. “Okay…? So move.”

“Me?” Lister’s expression was equally baffled. “This is  _ my _ bunk.”

“Actually—”

“Will you two shut up?” That was Rimmer, banging on the bunk from below. 

Lister sighed, and looked at Cat tiredly. For the first time, he observed that in the darkness, his eyes seemed to glow. Was that another feline trait the felis sapiens kept throughout their evolution? Or was it just an illusion, a reflection of the stars outside the glass in the window? How was it that he’d never noticed that before? Though all these questions went through his mind all at once, along with a barely-contained curse at the hologram in the bunk below, he verbalized none of them. “Look, can’t you sleep somewhere else?” he asked instead, lowering his voice (but only slightly — appeasing Rimmer was not a priority). “I’m afraid I’ll keep you in me sleep or something.”

Cat gave a disdainful sniff. “No can do,” he said. “It’s your fault I’m here, so I’m going to sleep wherever I place, thank you very much.”

Cat said that sort of thing a lot. He never actually seemed  _ mad _ about his own existence, but he also was never going to be thankful. At least not to Lister. The whole being a pseudo-cat-god thing was something Cat only seemed to believe in when it was convenient, or when he wanted to make a point. And this point, currently, was that Lister owed it to him to let him sleep in his bunk.

“You sure, man?” Lister asked, grinning a bit despite himself. “It might get stinky.” He wiggled his toes in Cat’s face. 

“Put those away!” he shot back, swiping at Lister’s foot. His claws pierced the skin just a bit, and Lister winced, jerking it away. 

“Okay, okay!”

Cat smirked and settled down, getting himself comfortable once more. “Just don’t take up more than seven-eighths of the bed, and we’ll be good.”

This time, Lister decided not to even argue. 

Tucked up as far into the corner as he could get, he quickly began to drift off, grateful at least for his ability to sleep in any and all places and positions. Cat meanwhile stretched out, his back pressing up against Lister’s legs and his head resting on his hands. If nothing else, it was a warm, and rather comforting sleeping arrangement. It had been far too long since Lister shared a bed with anyone, and though it wasn’t quite the same as being with Kochanski, having Cat there, providing body heat if nothing else, was actually pretty nice.

And when he woke up the next morning, Cat had curled up into a ball down at the foot of the bunk. He had no way of knowing for sure  _ when _ he had moved, or if he’d even realized he’d done it, but it was still pretty damn adorable, and would be excellent blackmail later. Lister reached over, grabbing the polaroid camera that hung on a peg on the wall, and snapped a quick picture. He vaulted over the side so as to not disturb his sleeping companion by climbing over him on his way to the ladder, and landed with a thud on the ground. Then he tucked the photo in his pocket and headed out to show it to Kryten.

**5**

“I’m out of fabric.”

This was  _ not _ the first thing Lister expected to hear when he sat up dizzily in bed, still hung over from the night before when he’d drank himself into oblivion. Usually the first thing he heard was Holly’s voice waking up Rimmer, or Rimmer coming back from his morning run, or Rimmer tapping away with his pen as he worked on a revision timetable.

But Rimmer wasn’t here.

Who  _ was _ here, however, was Cat, and he was standing over Lister with a sharp-toothed grin. 

Wait — standing  _ over _ Lister?

Right. Because he was in Rimmer’s bunk.

Last time he did that.

Because here’s the thing. This is not a story about Lister being sad over Rimmer’s departure. This is not a story about yearning, pining, although of course those elements are important, and present in the much larger story of Dave Lister, the last human alive. This is, remarkably, not a story about Rimmer at all — but if you haven’t figured that out by now, you may be lost.

You’re still here? Good.

This is a story about Lister, who was no longer the last human alive after all, and Cat, who was currently leaning over Lister and wailing at the top of his lungs.

“What the smeg, man?” Lister mumbled, rubbing his head. “You’re out of fabric? Why do you need more?”

Cat scowled. “You think I’m gonna just stop making clothes? I’m already missing most of my wardrobe. I can’t keep wearing the same 50 outfits.”

“Okay,” Lister said, because it just wasn’t worth arguing with him sometimes. “So what do you need?”

Cat looked at him like he was crazy. “More fabric.”

“And suppose we can’t find any more, considering it’s just the four of us here?” Lister was starting to worry that Cat was going to suggest raiding Kochanski’s closet.

Not that she had any other clothes of her own either.

Good grief. Starbug had never felt this small and utterly unhelpful before.

“I’ll make do,” Cat said. “I’m crafty.”

And that he was.

Lister stood up, pulled on his pants and jacket, shoved his feet into his boots, and shook his head as if to say  _ ‘what the hell, my life is already insane’. _

“Alright,” Lister said. “Let’s go find you some fabric.”

As it turns out, Starbug didn’t have a lot of storage. But true to his word, Cat was resourceful. Down in the cargo bay, they pulled drop cloths that were covering crates of supplies and tins of curry. They raided the kitchen, and Cat bundled up all the tea towels and cloth napkins. Lister took the cover off the table. They even took the spare seat covers from under the chairs in the cockpit.

“Is this enough?” Lister asked as he crawled out from the ducts, clutching the drapery someone had tacked up to muffle sound three million years ago, which had long since fallen down. He sneezed, and a cloud of dust exploded around him.

Cat wrinkled his nose. “I feel like we’re missing something.” He frowned in concentration, then snapped his fingers together. “Oh! Goalpost Head’s bedsheets! He won’t be needing those anymore.” He turned a corner abruptly and began making his way back to the sleeping quarters.

Lister chased after him. “No, Cat, wait. You can’t use those.”

Cat stopped, put his hands on his hips. “Why not?”

“I mean…” Lister scrambled for an excuse, any excuse, other than  _ I don’t want you to _ . “There’s  _ his _ . They probably, I dunno, smell like him.”

Cat considered this for a moment, and Lister prayed that he wouldn’t think too hard on it. He would probably realize quickly that holograms don’t smell like anything.

But thankfully, he didn’t pick up on that.

“Ew. You’re right,” he said instead. “No thank you.”

They reconvened in the mid-section. Cat spread all their findings out on the table and examined them critically. 

“The colors are a bit drab,” Lister said mildly, noting the faded greys and creams. 

Cat shot him a look. “What are you, a fashion critic?” He put his hands on his hips and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Colors are a bit drab.”

Nope. Lister wasn’t even going to touch that one. 

“I could dye them,” Cat mused. 

“...You have dye, but no fabric?”

“No, but I can make some.” Lister looked at him quizzically. “What? It’s easy. You boil like a fruit or whatever and the colored water stains the fabric.”

Cat never ceased to amaze Lister sometimes.

“So is it  _ just _ fruit?” Lister asked as they walked into Starbug’s small kitchenette. He opened a few cabinets skeptically. “‘Cause I’m not sure we’ve got any.”

Cat leaned against the bar counter window and folded his arms, resting his chin on his hands. “Any food scraps, but fruit has all the pretty colors.” He made a face, little fangs poking out in obvious disgust. “Don’t try to give me your month-old curry.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the old cloth draped over the table. “I’ve got more vomit-colored fabric here than I hoped I’d ever see in my life.”

Lister  _ did _ eventually track down some fruit that had only  _ just _ started to spoiled, some veggies that Kryten put away in stasis to keep them fresh, and something vaguely reddish that may have been dried ketchup that he pulled out of the trash. As for origin, Cat didn’t ask, and Lister didn’t offer. Cat watched and gave instructions asLister popped his findings into a saucepan, covered them with water, and let them boil. “No, no, you’re doing it wrong!” Cat would say. “Too much water, you’re going to dilute it too much.” But he didn’t actually lift a finger to help. Typical. Eventually, slowly, rotten food turned into deep, bright colored dye. Lister dipped a finger into one of the pots and withdrew it, now covered in a purplish liquid. He let a little drip onto his tongue, then stuck his whole finger in his mouth and sucked it clean. Cat made a retching sound and pivoted away.

“What?” Lister teased, turned off the stove. “Don’t like seeing how the sausage gets made?”

Cat just flipped him off, then mimed shoving that finger down his throat. Juggling all the pots at once, Lister shuffed his way back over to the table. He set them down, leaving scorch marks on the wood. “So this is really gonna work, then?”

Shrugging, Cat picked up one of the napkins, currently a faded greenish-yellow, and dipped it experimentally into a pot that was filled with a deep, royal blue liquid. Lister peered down inside, seeing it slowly absorb the color. “See for yourself,” Cat said.

“This is brilliant,” Lister gaped, lifting it up experiemtnally. Cat smacked it out of his hand.

“Leave it alone!” he hissed. Satisfied that Lister wasn’t going to shove the whole thing in his mouth or something, Cat flicked a strand of hair over his shoulder and sat down. “I learned that from the old cat priest.”

Lister watched him for a minute as he sniffed each of the pots, clearly testing for  _ something _ , though he had no idea what. “I mean it, though,” he said. “That was really clever.”

Cat glanced back at him. “ _ I _ know that. Don’t go telling everyone else, though. If they start thinking I know things, they’ll make me do all sorts of things like… helping.” 

Lister grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**\+ 1**

“Hey bud!” Cat stood on the bottom rung of the ladder, leaning up into Lister’s bunk and prodding his leg incessantly with a hand. “Hey. Hey. Monkey-Breath. Helloooooo. Are you listening?”

Lister was, of course,  _ not _ listening. He was burrowed under his quilt, facing the wall, headphones over his ears and Rastabilly Skank blasting. Stray chip bags, curry tins, and empty lager cans littered the mattress, and Cat felt them crunch under his knees as he hauled himself up into the bunk and disdainfully picked his way over to him. Wrinkling his nose at the rotting food stench (or was it socks?), he pulled the blanket back with a flourish. “Hey!” Lister said, eyes immediately squinting at the sudden brightness. “Lights!”

The room was plunged back into darkness, save for the faint glow from the porthole on the wall. Unfazed, Cat sat down, hunching over slightly so he wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling. “What are you doing?”

Lister, starting to realize that he wasn’t going to get rid of him any time soon, pulled off his headphones, and glared up at him. “Trying to sleep. What do you want?” He thought he was getting off easy since Rimmer hadn’t been in to bother him. Getting harassed by the cat was not part of his plan for the day. 

“The dispenser in the drive room with the fish is broken,” he said. “Fix it.”

Lister groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. “I can’t right now. I’m busy.”

Cat raised his eyebrows, glancing around skeptically. “Doing what?”

“Trying. To. Sleep.”

Cat leaned over to look at the small alarm clock next to Rimmer’s bunk. “It’s only seven. That’s not sleep time, that’s dinner time!”

“It’s always sleep  _ and _ dinner time for  _ you _ ,” Lister grumbled. “Why can’t  _ I _ sleep?”

“Because,” Cat said matter-of-factly. “You have to fix the fish machine.” 

Lister grabbed the pillow, tugging it out from under his head, and blindly swung it at his offending company. From the soft thud and the small  _ mrrow _ of protest, it sounded like it hit its target. “I’m not. Fixing. The smegging. Dispenser.” Why couldn’t he get the skutters to do it, or Kryten? Why did it have to be  _ him? _

Cat heaved a sigh of annoyance. He could probably do it himself. Or for that matter, track down another fish dispenser. But that would involve trekking through the ship, and A) that was too much work, and B) he liked  _ that _ dispenser. To a cat, familiarity is everything. From the lack of response or even movement, he concluded that Lister wouldn’t be changing his mind. So instead, Cat gave him a withering look and against his better judgement, asked, “So what’s eating you?”

For a moment, Lister didn’t say anything, and Cat wondered if he’d even heard him. But then, voice muffled by the blanket and the mattress, Lister said, “Dunno. ‘M just tired.”

That didn’t seem right. “You slept most of the day,” Cat said. “I thought humans didn’t do that. I was wearing a new suit today, you weren’t around to see it.”

“Well, Rimmer would say I’m not human at all,” Lister snapped. “And I don’t  _ know _ what humans do or don’t do anymore, because there  _ aren’t _ any smegging humans left!” He fell silent. They both seemed surprised by his outburst. Lister curled up, tucking a few chip bags under his head and pulling the blanket back over him. His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Sorry about your suit. You can show me tomorrow.”

Cat scoffed. “Tomorrow? Bud, do you  _ think _ I’d wear the same outfit twice?  _ No. _ Ask me in a year, maybe I’ll try it on for you again.” Lister made a coughing sound, which could’ve been him choking on a bit of chicken that got lodged in his throat, or maybe, just maybe, a small laugh. “So you’re hiding in your bed and sleeping because… why?”

“I’m  _ not _ sleeping,” he corrected, still not actually looking up at Cat. “I’ve got too much on me mind.”

“Like what?” Cat asked. “I didn’t know you thought things.”

He was really starting to sound like Rimmer. That was never good. Maybe Lister needed to step up before Cat was influenced too much by the wrong person. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about being a good role model or influence or whatever. Right now, all Lister could think about was being the last human alive, being stuck in space with a cat, a hologram, and a robot, with no chance of getting off this ship or doing anything else for the rest of his life. Every day was the same. He was tired of this life. Tired of existing. It wasn’t anything new, and most days, he was fine.Then sometimes, it would hit him all over again. At times like that, like  _ this _ , there was no point in doing anything except sitting in bed and sleeping.

But sleep didn’t come easy. 

So instead, he just sat in bed and felt miserable.

“It’s like… I’ve got all this restless energy, like I wanna do things, but… I can’t?” Lister pushed himself up on his elbows. Cat wasn’t looking at him, he didn’t even appear to be  _ listening _ . But Lister had spent enough time around Cat to know how to tell if he was paying attention. And though he seemed intently caught up in undoing the threading on the quilt with his claws, he was sitting up straight, head cocked just a bit to the side. Attentive, even without looking like it. “All me limbs feel like lead or something. And me brain is mush.”

“No offense, but your brain is always mush.”

Lister scoffed. “I resent that, you know.”

Cat stopped picking at the hem of the blanket, hands hovering in the air for a moment before settling down beside him and kneading the mattress thoughtfully. “I have an idea.”

“ _ You _ have an  _ idea?” _

Cat’s face scrunched up in annoyance, brows knitting together and his tongue poking out in pouting defiance. Lister actually laughed to himself a bit —  _ so he can dish it out, but he can’t take it? _ — and grinned back.

“I take it back,” Cat grumbled. “I’m not gonna help you.”

“Awwww, you were gonna  _ help me?” _ Lister teased. “C’mon, you didn’t even say what the idea was. Let’s hear it, then.”

From Cat’s expression, he was  _ seriously _ regretting even opening his mouth. Instead of answering, he leapt gracefully off the top bunk and trotted out of the room. Lister, slightly baffled but not  _ really _ surprised, just rolled his eyes and flopped back down. He pulled the quilt up over his head and once again attempted to still his mind enough to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t work. 

But a little while later, the door to the sleeping quarters slid back open and light from the corridor flooded in. The thin, threadbare blanket was not enough to filter out the brightness. “Rimmer,” he protested to the loud shuffling footsteps. “Close the smegging door.” He rolled over on his side to face the wall, and offered no further greeting. Only when the mattress dipped beneath him did he startle, scrambling into a sitting position once more. “Rimmer man, what are you—”

But it wasn’t his roommate sitting across from him at the foot of the bed, it was Cat, peering down at him and holding a mug in his hand.

“Smeg.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You scared me. Where’d ya go?

“ _ Well,” _ Cat said, puffing out his chest in an attempt to reclaim a sliver of his self-importance. “I brought you this.” He took a drink from the mug and then held it out to Lister, who took it and peered inside, squinting.

“What’s this?”

“Warm milk.” He shrugged, nonchalant and disinterested. “Helps you sleep.” He climbed down and started toward the door, wanting to get out of the room as quickly as he could before anyone could acknowledge that he’d actually done something nice. 

But there was no such luck, as Lister took a sip from the mug, smiled and called down to him. “Hey man.” Cat didn’t respond, or even turn around, but he did pause in the doorway. “Thanks for this.”

A moment, as Cat seemed to weigh his reply options. Then he just shook his head, said, “this never happened,” and left. 

By the time Kryten came in to say goodnight, Lister was fast asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos fuel me, and you can find me at [hardlightholography](http://hardlightholography.tumblr.com) on tumblr :)


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